


Two Years (Pt 2)

by Tindomerelhloni



Series: Two Years [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drugs, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 15:59:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2031156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tindomerelhloni/pseuds/Tindomerelhloni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There is no way in hell I’m letting you out of my sight. Just make it quick…” John was shaking from head to toe. Withdrawals. Sherlock hadn’t noticed until now. </p><p>“Oh, John… what did you do to yourself?” Sherlock was nearly in tears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Years (Pt 2)

**Author's Note:**

> People asked me to write more for Two Years...
> 
> Not sure I'm liking this as much.. But Who knows, maybe I'll get another creative streak!

John said nothing the whole ride back to Baker Street. But he never once took his eyes off Sherlock, he kept an iron grip on Sherlock’s hand, afraid he would disappear just like all the other times. 

As the taxi neared Baker Street, Sherlock broke the silence. “Mrs. Hudson doesn’t know that… that I’m…. here.” His voice was low, ashamed. Do you want to come in with me, or would you rather wait on the street?”

“There is no way in hell I’m letting you out of my sight. Just make it quick…” John was shaking from head to toe. Withdrawals. Sherlock hadn’t noticed until now. 

“Oh, John… what did you do to yourself?” Sherlock was nearly in tears. 

“Later, this is not the place.” John clenched his jaw.

Having reached 221B, Sherlock paid that cabbie and they both got out. Sherlock offered a hand to John, but John refused. 

“Well then. Shall we?” Sherlock nodded to 221B.

John gave a slight nod in reply. 

Sherlock took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and walked into 221B. Mrs. Hudson herself, was on her way out the door. She let out a started screech that turned into a cry of happiness. She threw herself at her boys, bringing both of them into a hug. 

“Mrs. Hudson. I don’t mean to be rude. John and I could use tea, I’m all out. And I dare say some privacy.” 

“Oh Sherlock… Learn to do your own shopping… I’m your landlady, not your housekeeper.” She gives a little smile. “Of course I’ll make some tea. I’ll be up in a minute.” She heads back to her flat.

Sherlock mounts the stairs two at a time, desperate to get upstairs. He needs to figure out what is wrong with John. Obviously drugs, but which ones. John follows slowly, as if each step hurt. His eyes looking at his feet.

The flat looked exactly as he had left it. Just dusty. Sherlock started for his chair, but then thought better of it. Sofa. He and John would sit on the Sofa… Maybe it could be like old times.  
John sits next to Sherlock, but stares at the unlit fireplace. 

“John…”

“No! You don’t speak!” The anger in John’s voice shocked Sherlock.  
“You were dead! Two years, Sherlock! Dead! Do you know what your death did to me? One word, Sherlock! That’s all I needed! ONE.” John whirls around and faces Sherlock now. There were tears in his eyes and his lips were shaking. 

Sherlock leans close and wipes a tear off John’s face. 

“So many times, John… I tried to contact you. I read your blog… I tried to comment, but you couldn’t know I was alive.”

“Why not? Why the BLOODY HELL NOT.” John shouts. 

“Because… I couldn’t bear the thought of Moriarty killing you! I was SAVING YOU.” Now Sherlock is angry. Why can’t John see? He did this for him.

“So you let me think you were dead. Brilliant. Thanks a lot.” John buries his face in his hands and gives in to the tears.

“John, I am truly sorry… But I need to know, what have you done to yourself? What drugs have you taken?”

John clasped his hands on his lap, trying to stop them shaking. 

“It started with booze. I drank myself out of grief. That night… the night you died, I came back here, took a bottle of whiskey to bed and drank until I passed out. The next day I did nothing. I stayed in bed, staring at your spot, smelling your pillow. I couldn’t believe you were gone. I could still smell you, how could you be gone? Two days went by like that. But then I had to pull myself together… for YOUR FUNERAL. I had to bury you, Sherlock. After the funeral, I couldn’t come back to Baker Street.” 

John takes a deep breath before continuing.

“I tried to kill myself that first month. I got some drugs, for someone… I don’t even remember who, or what they were. I just know that when I was high, I didn’t feel pain, I didn’t hurt. I could hear your voice when I was high. You were telling me to join you. I would have conversations with you.

I tried to pull myself together after about two months. Greg and your brother tried to help. I stayed clean for a while. I even tried dating. That was a bad idea. Every time I’d see Mary, I’d just see you. Every time she talked, I’d just hear you. Six months ago… That’s when It got bad for me. I started doing coke and started drinking again. In the last six months I haven’t been sober. Not once… This, this is the longest I’ve gone without a drink.”

By now, John is sweating and shaking from withdrawal. And Sherlock can’t take it anymore… He doesn’t care what John says, he needs to hold this man. He pulls john onto his lap, John’s head rests on the arm of the couch, and Sherlock wraps his arms around him. 

“John, I will help you through this… Please, just let me help.”

John says nothing, just clings to Sherlock weeping like a child. Sherlock places a hand under his chin and makes John look at him. John refused to meet Sherlock’s eyes. 

“I’m right here… Please let me in.”

“I… I can’t. You’ll hurt me again. You’ll leave, or worse, you might actually get killed. I can’t go through that again! Sherlock, I can’t… Please, don’t you see?”

“I do see, and as much as it is in my power, I promise you that I will never leave you again.” 

Sherlock looks up as Mrs. Hudson enters the flat. Her eyes fall on John. She places the tea down, gives Sherlock a smile and leaves without saying a word.

“John? How about some tea?” 

John sits up and stares blankly into the fireplace. Memories of happier times in this flat echo through his head. He doesn’t even look up when Sherlock hands him a cup of tea. He takes a small sip. He hadn’t have anything to drink except alcohol and water in at least a month. The tea tastes like happier times. 

“Sherlock… I don’t want to be like this.. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I believed you were dead.” 

“It wont be easy, John. The withdrawals are going to be painful.”

John nods.

“The initial craving alone will drive you insane. You are already depressed enough, I’m scared of what this will do to you.”

John nods again, but this time looks up at Sherlock. His sad eyes searching, as if searching for some hope.

“Sherlock, I can do this. But I need you. As a doctor, I am aware of what I will go through during withdrawals. And I’m afraid… Sherlock, I’m so afraid… I was so alone, and so depressed…. Sherlock…” John puts his tea down and leans on Sherlock. Still finding it hard to believe that an hour ago he was going to kill himself, and now, here is Sherlock, in the flesh. 

“Together, then, John. I will be here for you.” Sherlock kisses John’s forehead and holds him tight. 

“Now then, when was the last time you ate?” 

“Two days ago…” 

“I’ll call Angelo and have him bring some food over. Does that sound good, luv?” Sherlock strokes John’s hair as he nods.

“Yeah, that sounds good…” John says before he drifts off to sleep, completely worn my emotions.


End file.
